


Obsessions

by realelvenking



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realelvenking/pseuds/realelvenking
Summary: Meludir continues with his duties
Relationships: Meludir (Hobbit Movies)/Thranduil (Tolkien)
Kudos: 14





	1. Heat

Hot water relaxes stressed muscles, but it doesn’t seem to be working for Thranduil, even now, eyes closed, head back against the side of the hot pool. Steam rises from the water, making the room cloudy, almost dreamy. Without moving an inch, he speaks. 

“You’re late.” 

Meludir had tried to be quiet, hoping Thranduil wouldn’t noice and he could pretend he had arrived promptly as expected. “Ah, I am sorry your Majesty.” He knows Thranduil well enough now that he doesn’t want to hear his excuses, however valid. 

“I am sure you are.” Thranduil exhaled, but made no further comment, nor movement. 

Meludir knew he was expected to join him, but fumbled with the ties on his fine green silk robe. 

Finally, Thranduil opened an eye. “What are you doing?” 

Meludir’s cheeks flushed. “I-I...” he let his hands fall to his side, uncharacteristically flustered. 

Thranduil closed his eye again. “Perhaps you should have a drink, unless you are not up to the task this evening?” Somehow, Thranduil’s sincere get out clauses made Meludir feel like he had failed. 

“N-no...your Majesty, I shall have a drink.” It had been a difficult training session, although judging by his demeanour, Thranduil had had a trying day himself. Surely one far more serious than that of a guard turned... pet. 

He tried again with the knot, but between his haste and the steam, it was pointless.   
Before Meludir could react any further, Thranduil moved towards the shallow steps and rose from the pool, rivulets of water racing their way down his toned body. 

Despite seeing Thranduil naked multiple times before, Meludir always found it difficult to look directly at him, as if it was something desperately wrong for /him/ to look. Thranduil, on the other hand, was so passive about it, it made Meludir even more flustered, trying to look anywhere except for... 

Right in front of him, it seems. Thranduil was holding two glasses, passing one to Meludir. “Did you not want a drink?” His blue eyes were fixed on Meludir’s and the Silvan elf felt as if he had been stripped already. 

“Uh... yes.” As eager a lover he was, Meludir always struggled marrying the public image of his King with the one behind closed doors. He still felt the same respect, of course, he was a mere subject, chosen to please his King, which he did in the same way he approached any task - with enthusiasm and pride.   
He took the glass from Thranduil now, taking a nervous, large gulp. 

“You seem a little... distracted this evening.” Thranduil is still stood there, dripping wet, inches from him. 

“I am sorry my Lord, I...” he took another large sip and felt the warmth spreading through him, following it with a more confident smile. “I am well and here to please my King should he wish it.” 

Thranduil downed his own glass in one, regaining his usual icy demeanour. “You can start with a towel.” 

“Oh! Yes!” Still holding the glass, Meludir scrambled to grab a large towel from a nearby bench and hand it to Thranduil, who looked vaguely amused by the distraction he caused. 

The King took the towel from him, the corner of his mouth twitching almost imperceptibly. He dried, ignoring Meludir, who took the opportunity to finish his wine, beginning to feel heady with alcohol and steam. 

“Come.” Thranduil’s voice drew him out of his haze, now wearing a robe of his own, made of something soft and lush, the type of fabric Meludir desperately wanted to touch. The King was walking towards his adjacent chamber, not even looking to see if Meludir was following. He already knew. 

The Silvan, of course, followed like a shadow into the dark chamber, lit only by a few candles. As always, he felt as if he was in a wonderful dream.   
Thranduil settled himself on a large couch, arms spread out. “I am tense.”   
Meludir needed no further encouragement - any excuse to put his hands on his beloved lord. The smaller elf walked behind the couch, his feet light.   
Meludir placed his hands reverently on Thranduil’s shoulders - he was right, the robe was impossibly soft and luxurious, something so expensive he could not even name it.   
Thranduil’s shoulders were tense, there was no denying it. He began to apply some pressure, circling his thumbs over the hard muscles, relishing the time he spent close to the King. For a time, Meludir just stood and massaged Thranduil’s shoulders, happy to do so, but hoping he wouldn’t be sent away. Waiting. 

Eventually, Thranduil spoke.   
“Fetch me another wine, Meludir.”   
The Silvan was once again pulled out from a dreamy reverie, giving Thranduil’s shoulders one last roll with his hands before moving swiftly to the table which held his wine. 

“One for yourself, should you need it.” 

Meludir knew he need not reply, however, he accepted the invitation, pouring himself a generous glass of wine. He was certainly enjoying many a luxury lately, Thranduil himself notwithstanding. 

He returned to his King, who put his hand out for the wine under heavily-lidded eyes.   
“Hm. Something is amiss.” Thranduil sat forward a little, looking at Meludir as if he was inspecting him. 

“My Lord?” Oh no, what terrible mistake had he made? 

Thranduil stood, languidly, some of his tension had been exorcised from his body at least. He didn’t appear angry, which confused Meludir even more. His hand came up to Meludir’s shoulder, his palm smoothing the silk robe down to the sleeve. With his fingers, he took the collar of the robe and traced it. Meludir held his breath, Thranduil’s eyes boring into his, the Silvan’s eyes catching amber in the candlelight. Meludir focused his eyes forward, only to be met with the fantasising bare skin of Thranduil’s neck, leading down and disappearing into the darkness of his robe. Meludir was caught by a sudden urge to kiss it, holding back, unsure. 

With a sudden, swift movement, Thranduil pulled so hard on Meludir’s thin robe that it split at the seams, letting it float down to his feet.  
“Oh!” He couldn’t help but make a sound then - although at his King’s request he arrived in something light and easy to remove, he wasn’t quite expecting Thranduil to literally rip it from his body.   
Thranduil looked down, raking his eyes over every inch of Meludir’s now naked body. Meludir had never felt so seen in his life. 

“Better.” Thranduil took a sip of wine and moved back to the couch, settling himself back on the seat, legs slightly apart, one arm spread out. He seemed to fill it with his presence alone. 

“Now... I rather think it’s time I took you up on that offer of you pleasing me.” Thranduil stared Meludir down, his voice enough to send a shiver of anticipation throughout the Silvan’s body. 

Meludir gracefully dropped down, his head now level with Thranduil’s knees. Carefully, almost reverently, he leant forward and began to unclasp Thranduil’s robe, revealing creamy skin onto which he placed a slow kiss, no fumbling hands now, this was too important. Clasp, kiss, clasp, kiss - until he made it to Thranduil’s hip, a deep scar running down his right side, disappearing lower below the robe. Meludir placed his mouth on it and Thranduil twitched slightly, his breath hitching in the smallest of sounds. The Silvan elf had taken his time learning the map of his master’s body, all its tiny sensitivities. The skin was thinner there and Meludir traced his lips down, looking up with a mischievous glint in his eye.   
Thranduil was looking back at him, eyes dark, still slowly sipping his wine. All traces of shyness left Meludir the moment Thranduil disrobed him - to be desired made any nerves fall away. Thranduil could take any lover in the kingdom, however he had chosen him, Meludir and he was determined to keep his place.

Meludir’s fingers prised apart the final clasp, his hand closing around Thranduil’s burgeoning erection whilst he continued slowly kissing Thranduil’s scar, slowly stroking him to full hardness. Thranduil made a low sound of frustration and Meludir looked back up again, a small smile forming across his lips. The felt the King thrust slightly in his hand, his tension making him impatient. Meludir, ever obliging, with no desire to irritate his King, shifted himself, peeling back Thranduil’s robes further to take in his magnificent skin. 

Meludir had learnt many things under Thranduil’s instruction, however he was more than happy to be taught until the end of time. Placing his kiss-wet lips to the base of the King’s cock, Meludir continued his slow strokes. Thranduil gave a short, low purr, letting his head fall back again. Encouraged, Meludir ran the flat of his tongue upwards, flicking over the head. The King’s hand came up to his dark hair, stroking it flat at first and then entwining his fingers at the roots, his secret code to spur Meludir on. 

The Silvan was more than happy to, opening his pink, willing mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the head. Thranduil’s thumb was circling his scalp. It’s oddly intimate, all Meludir desires is his touch. He doesn’t have Thranduil’s restraint, nor the benefit of age, however he’s here for his youthful enthusiasm, sliding his mouth down to the base, taking the King into his throat with a small moan. His eyes flutter open, looking up at Thranduil who in turn is looking back at him - the intensity makes him almost forget for a moment, but Thranduil jerks his hips ever so slightly, reminding Meludir of his special task. The smaller elf begins to work his head up and down, at a slow pace, he knows his Majesty my wishes for things to last an achingly long time. Meludir hopes that Thranduil will use him all through the night. 

Thranduil slowly rhythmically fucks Meludir’s wet, willing mouth, the grip on his hair intensifies and for a time, the only sound is of flesh meeting flesh, with the occasional moan from the Silvan. There is no escape, and he wishes for there to be no end. 

“...Meludir...” Thranduil pulls his hair up, withdrawing from his mouth. Meludir feels strangely empty, looking up at him with questioning eyes. Thranduil releases him with a command. “Come here.” 

Meludir is only too pleased to oblige, rising from his knees and trailing back up, only to have Thranduil pull him close until he’s straddling his lap, the King’s cock between them, wet and shiny with his saliva.   
Thranduil traces Meludir’s swollen lips with a finger, still with that same look of amusement on his face. “I think I may let you come tonight.”


	2. Heart Shaped Box

The Silvan can’t help but whine, it’s been a week, ignored, untouched, unable to come. He stretches his legs a little, writhing slightly. 

“I said... might.” Thranduil’s voice was measured, looking up at Meludir with the faintest hint of a smile, his hand taking both their cocks and stroking them together. Meludir couldn’t help but buck his hips up at the sudden contact, his head moving forward so Thranduil’s mouth was level with his ear. 

“You are very needy this evening, Meludir...” 

The Silvan shuddered again at his King - his Master - saying his name. He whined, his lip trembling. “M-may I...?” 

Thranduil still looked amused, knowing Meludir still struggled with verbalising his wants in the bedroom, even if those were to please Thranduil. “May you, what, Meludir? Speak up.” 

Meludir gave a low whine, conflicted between his lewd desire and saying such things in front of his King, despite his current state. Desperate, he moved his mouth to Thranduil’s neck, placing a kiss. He wouldn’t dare initiate one on his lips. Thranduil said nothing, only lightly traced a hand along Meludir’s spine, causing a shiver. In return, the Silvan placed another kiss behind Thranduil’s ear - a bold move. Without any word of complaint, he began kissing his Majesty’s neck more feverishly, Thranduil’s finger making slow loops on his lower back. 

“I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to...” Thranduil’s voice was cut off as his finger ran over something he was not expecting. A small smile formed on Meludir’s lips, continuing his kisses. Thranduil had found something hard, running his finger again over Meludir’s entrance. “Well... you are full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

The Silvan elf shifted further, allowing more access, still exploring Thranduil’s neck with his mouth, an emboldened hand now touching his King’s exposed chest, keeping the special plug he’d had made tight inside him as Thranduil’s teasing fingers began exploring the outside of it. 

Without even an indication, Thranduil lifted Meludir with one arm, the Silvan’s legs automatically clinging around his waist as he stood, carrying Meludir over to the bed and setting him down, the smaller elf obediently lying down. 

“Turn over, Meludir, I want to see my gift.” 

Of course, Meludir obliged with great pleasure, turning over and raising his hips to give Thranduil a better view. Any shyness fell away during these evenings, especially when he could hear the subtle lust in Thranduil’s voice. 

Not for one moment did Thranduil think that the exquisitely fashioned plug was any sort of replacement for him, no - only a preparation. He placed his hands on Meludir’s slight cheeks and ran both his thumbs either side, hearing a small mewling moan escape the Silvan’s mouth. 

Meludir spread his knees wider, becoming even more excited by Thranduil looking at him in this way, stripped of his robes, face down on the King’s bed. 

One of the King’s thumbs ran over the plug’s base, the seal of Mirkwood engraved into the metal. The King’s seal. Thranduil allowed himself a small smirk. “I do hope you made this yourself...” 

“Ah...! Yes, of course, my King.” Meludir’s Hans gripped the sheet underneath him. 

“Very good, my pet.” His thumb pressed down, making circular motions, the plug moving with it. Meludir tensed and gasped. 

“I-wanted to be ready as requested...” his voice was breathy. 

“And you will be rewarded.” Thranduil pushed down on the plug, both his words and actions omitting a moan of pleasure from Meludir. 

The King took hold of the base now, slowly pulling back so it gracefully slid out. Meludir felt the air against his tender hole, the sudden void aching to be filled; but he knew Thranduil would take his time. His play was exquisite torture. 

Thranduil leant forward a little, blowing cool air over Meludir’s quivering entrance, hearing him sigh and moan, legs twitching and sliding on his sheets. The King then ran his hands lightly down Meludir’s inner thighs, spreading out, hearing a fluttering breath leave the Silvan. Without warning, Thranduil flipped him onto his back and he gasped in shock. 

“My-My King...” Meludir steadied himself, now facing Thranduil, who was knelt over him, as intimidating as it was arousing. The Sinda put a finger under Meludir’s chin, resting his thumb flat, pupils so dilated there was barely any blue left. Meludir waited, savouring the strangely intimate gesture. Despite his desire for his King, his loyalty and his love, he knew Thranduil did not love him. Intimacy was generally far away, even when he was rewarded with one of the King’s kisses. Thranduil teased him, fucked him, pleasured him, instructed him and he owned him, entirely. That was as close as he could get and it was more than enough for Meludir. 

For a moment, he thought Thranduil meant to kiss him, but the King appeared still, intense. Meludir rolled his hips upwards with a needy moan. 

“Patience, my sweet.” Thranduil stilled Meludir with his words, waiting. “The night is still young and you shall have your reward... eventually.” 

Meludir’s whine became louder as Thranduil pulled away from him, elegantly moving from the bed to a small chest at the foot of the four-poster. 

“Now, don’t be a brat, or I’ll send you back to your quarters in this state.” Thranduil extracted a length of silk, fashioned into a thick rope, looking back up at Meludir, eyes catching the light. 

“No... no, your Highness, I’ll be good...” Meludir tried his hardest not to squirm. The look in Thranduil’s eyes was one of pure lust, one he knew would lead to broaching new horizons that very night. 

“Arms above your head, hands together.” Thranduil ignored Meludir’s frustrated, naked form on the bed. Meludir complied, hoping this would lead to some relief. 

Thranduil began binding his wrists together with the silk, tying Meludir’s raised arms to a gap in the leaf detailing on the dark bed. The Silvan bit down on his lip, trying not to make a sound of sheer frustration, being denied the chance to touch his Master again. 

“Patience...” Thranduil finished his knot, Meludir was unable to move far. To his surprise, Thranduil held his cheek for a moment, tracing the perfect skin of his cheekbone with his thumb. 

Meludir knew better than to make any demands of Thranduil, they were always denied - or excruciatingly delayed. As frustrated as he was, it was best to wait. The King ran an open palm over the Silvan’s unmarked skin and he shivered, cock straining upwards, beading precum. Thranduil gave one of low laughs, flickering his fingertip over it. “You are always so eager.” 

“Only for you, My King.” Meludir looked up at him, eyes shining. It was impossible not to feel adored by those eyes. 

Thranduil looked back at him, the very corner of his mouth turned up into a slight smirk. “And now, my eager one, what am I going to do with you?”


End file.
